


Best of Both Worlds

by Stuck_Y_OnYou (orphan_account)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood Memories, M/M, Mind Meld, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Vulcan Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27042814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Stuck_Y_OnYou
Summary: When James Kirk was five, his mother gave him a pack of coloured pens. She explained what they were for, and how he shouldn’t get his hopes up too much for a reply. After all, he was only a little boy...Every human being experiences the Echoes - images that appear on your skin when your soul-mate chooses to draw or write on themselves. Everyone, that is, except James Kirk. Gone his whole life without a single Echo, Jim cannot stop wondering what might have become of his soul-mate. And why they never wrote back to him...
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 23
Kudos: 708





	Best of Both Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own, this is un-beta'd and tbh I'm not even sure which universe this is set in but it's an AU so I figure I don't have to take it too seriously.

When James Kirk was five, his mother gave him a pack of coloured pens. She explained what they were for, and how he shouldn’t get his hopes up too much for a reply. After all, he was only a boy. His soulmate might only just be born! That was what she hoped, anyway, since it had been five years and no marks had ever risen on her son’s skin.

The Echoes, as they were called, were still a subject of mystery and study across the human world. When one human drew on their flesh, the marks often appeared on the skin of their soulmate. Not always. But most of the time. Names and addresses never did. Co-ordinates, neither. Direct questions could be hit and miss. But statements, drawings, the rise and fall of a skyline, a poem… more often than not, they would appear as Echoes on the skin of the other. They would fade after a day or two, whether or not the writer scrubbed their skin clean immediately or not, and there had been great love-stories throughout human history of soulmates finding one another through their cryptic manner of their Echoes. Of course, for every successful love-story, there were half a dozen failures.

For most people, their soulmate was a diary who sometimes wrote back, and nothing more.

James took the pack of pens, and spent a happy afternoon writing on his legs and stomach and arms, delighted in the freedom of being able to scrawl over his own skin. He drew star-ships, houses, cars, people, animals… until he got bored and put the pens back into their packet and went off to do something else.

There was no reply on his skin that day.

Or any other day.

And there wouldn’t be. For thirty years.

*

Millions of miles away, on a warm red planet, a small child ran to his mother in distress as images he hadn’t drawn began to appear on his skin, melting across his flesh like dripping paint. Images of buildings, stick-figures of people, animals he didn’t recognise, all drawn upside-down as if the illustrator had been leaning over his shoulder, or might have been manipulating his own hand.

And his mother gathered him into a rare embrace, shaken and devastated for her son, and what the marks on his skin would mean for him.

*

McCoy had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. There were sums on his forearms – complex mathematics that were crossed out and re-done down to his wrist where they politely stopped. He and Jim were in the mess on the _Enterprise_ , toasting their mission with carbonated soda rather than the illicit drink that had – somehow – made its way onto the vessel. They’d wait a few weeks before cracking that open.

‘I wonder what they do,’ Jim nodded at the Echoes. ‘Something in engineering, maybe?’

'I couldn’t give a damn,’ Bones said. ‘All they do is use me like a notebook, anyway. Always have. Not so much as a love-heart… it’s always been notes, grocery lists, math.’

‘Do you write back?’

‘Sometimes. Usually after a few drinks. God knows if it gets through, they never bounce off it. There’ll be a break of a few days and then – boom. More math.’

Jim grinned. ‘Could be worse.’

‘Ha. Depends on your definition of _worse_ , I guess. At least you always look presentable. And it’s got you a command.’

That was true. Jim’s flawless skin and apparently non-existent soulmate had sealed the deal when it came to his captaincy. Unlikely to be distracted, nothing threatening to call him across the galaxy, it was ideal.

Still. After thirty-five years of being a ‘blank’, as Jim and other rare inkless humans were known, it still stung to see others openly being dismissive of evidence of their soulmates. Jim tapped his fingers against the table-top in annoyance.

Bones sighed. He’d seen this mood too many times. ‘Hey. Chin up. You know what I think about it, and it happens. They’re dead. You just got a very short straw, and shit happens. Nothing you could have done about it.’

‘I know.’ Jim pushed his drink away. ‘I can’t complain.’

‘You can.’

‘Alright, maybe I _shouldn’t_ , then.’

‘That’s the spirit. Look, how many people actually find their soulmate? It’s a tiny percentage. You can’t obsess over it.’

‘I know that. It just would have been nice to know they existed.’

Bones narrowed his eyes. ‘Do you still write to them?’

Jim clicked his tongue and looked away. ‘No.’

'Well, then. Think yourself lucky that you don’t have quantum theory all over your arms, and get on with being the captain. Kay?’

So, Jim did. Five years would go quicker than he thought if he didn’t pay attention. And soulmates often slid from his mind as they explored, contacted, rescued and observed new civilisations and cultures. Jim did note once or twice that no other worlds seemed to have the soulmate trait, which was comforting, in a way. He wasn’t alone in the universe at all. And since Starfleet regs insisted on arms and legs being covered, he rarely had to see other people’s Echoes when on the ship. There was a memorable moment when Scotty’s soulmate (who apparently really was cut from the same cloth) had drawn a moustache and beard onto Scotty’s face. Scotty had retaliated by drawing something phallic onto his own cheek, which meant he was banned from communal areas until it all vanished.

Spock seemed to find it all terribly confusing. ‘I don’t understand,’ he would say. ‘Why do you not simply write your co-ordinates or a place and time to meet your mate?’

‘Doesn’t work like that,’ Jim said. ‘They’ve been studying it for hundreds of years and they can’t work it out. If you try to give out information like that, it doesn’t get through. Sometimes ordinary messages don’t Echo through, either. It’s not an exact science.’

‘That is highly illogical, Captain.’

‘You’re telling me.’

‘I certainly am. Surely such restrictions make finding your mate almost impossible?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Jim shrugged. ‘People don’t always marry their soulmates. You can’t live your whole life hoping you’re going to fall over The One, can you?’ He turned back around in his chair without waiting for an answer.

*

They covered the marks with clothing, and luckily they never appeared on the child’s face or hands. His mother tried to explain that the marks were supposed to be something nice; they were proof her child had a soulmate somewhere out there.

But the child, embarrassed and ashamed of the childish drawings and unwanted attention that did nothing but cement his humanity, refused to be drawn into discussion about it. Logically, he said, if he did not respond to the attentions, they would cease.

It took a decade.

But, eventually, they stopped.

The child might have been comforted by this, if the last message he had received had not been a scrawled line of Terran Basic script reading:

_He's going to kill us all_.

*

Jim’s rule about not fucking members of the crew held fast, much to Bones’ amusement. It turned out that being a captain actually was a lot of work, and he often ended up exhausted, his PADD still displaying unread data and reports as he snored half-dressed on the bed.

But he did recognise the importance of downtime, and when he and Spock started playing chess he found it helped him to sleep at night. Perhaps it was the whole strategy without consequence element of the game, or perhaps it was the placid conversation, but either way Jim started to long for chess whenever he was handed something to sign.

Chess, and Spock.

That was something Jim probably ought to have stamped out the moment it was kindled, but like an idiot he figured that ignoring it was the best way to go and by the time he realised what he was doing, the fire was out of control.

‘You seem agitated, Captain,’ Spock said, moving a rook with precision and taking Jim’s bishop. ‘Your success rate is much below your usual percentage.’

'I’m not agitated,’ Jim lied. ‘I’m thinking.’

‘But not about the game.’

Jim pulled the face he always pulled when Spock stated the irritatingly obvious. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s a human thing. Don’t worry about it.’

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘It is the duty of a responsible crew member to ensure their captain is functioning at peak efficiency.’

‘For god’s sake, Spock, I’m not a coffee machine,’ Jim snapped. ‘It’s been a long week, alright? And don’t tell me the standard week is as long as it’s always been. It’s a figure of speech.’ He pushed a pawn forward to block Spock from taking his queen.

Spock was silent for a moment, ruminating on his captain’s words. ‘Perhaps you would benefit from a brief shore leave, the next time there is availability,’ he said.

Jim just hummed. His last two leaves had been cancelled at the last minute due to emergencies onboard. Not that he minded too much, but a change of scenery probably was overdue. ‘And when’s the last time you left the ship?’ he asked Spock.

‘I wasn’t aware we were discussing me, Captain.’

‘Well, what a surprising turn of conversation, eh? But I’d like to know. When did you last take a shore leave?’

Spock’s mouth tightened for a second before he answered. ‘Although I was technically granted leave on the last rotation, I chose not to take it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I was needed. Choosing solitude over assisting the ship and crew would be illogical.’

‘I can’t argue with that. But you don’t have to go for solitude, you know. Next time we park up… let’s both take leave. That way you can make sure I get a change of scenery, and I can make sure you don’t try and stay onboard the _Enterprise_ when you’re supposed to be relaxing.’

‘A mutual agreement of responsibility,’ Spock nodded. ‘Logical.’ He deftly took Jim’s knight. ‘Check.’

‘Check yourself,’ Jim said, moving his king out of reach. ‘And don’t think we’re going to spend the entire two days meditating, either. We can do something we both enjoy.’

‘You enjoy meditation,’ Spock pointed out. ‘You have said before that the method aids your sleep quality.’

‘I’m not spending two days meditating. And neither are you. We’re going to do something _fun_.’

‘Why does the word _fun_ fill me with apprehension, Captain?’

‘Probably because you’re mistrustful. Checkmate!’ Jim declared, sitting back in delight as Spock furiously examined the board, the rare emotion flitting over his face before disappearing within seconds.

‘Well played,’ he conceded.

*

‘I can’t imagine a worse way to spend forty-eight hours,’ Bones groaned as he signed Jim’s shore leave form. ‘He’s going to have you star-gazing and deep breathing and having no fun whatsoever.’

‘Ye of little faith,’ Jim said, hopping down from the table. ‘We’ll end up at one bar, at least.’

‘And for what? He doesn’t even get drunk. He’ll just sit there judging you whilst guzzling pure ethanol, probably. And don’t expect him to hold your hair back when you’re throwing up.’

‘I don’t usually throw up.’

‘Oh, please. I saw you after Scotty’s birthday party, shouting for Ralph.’

Jim had to laugh. ‘I’ll give you that one, but anyone would be after necking whatever Scottish devilment was in those bottles. Except Spock, maybe. Hey – remember Spock’s face when we told him what a birthday party was? He looked so confused.’ Spock had eventually given in to the celebration, telling Scotty _congratulations on remaining alive for another Earth-calendar year_ , and had even eaten some of the food, though Jim couldn’t remember what it had been – everything was a bit blurry by that point.

He realised Bones was staring at him. ‘What?’

‘I swear to god, that dopey look you get on your face when you’re talking about him…’ Bones turned away and pressed things on his PADD. ‘You make me sick.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Jim frowned.

‘You know exactly what it means, Jim, don’t play innocent with me. It’s fine. You’ve never let being a different species come between yourself and a good time.’

‘It’s not like that,’ Jim said, too quickly. ‘I mean, it’s.’ He sighed. ‘Look, he’s not exactly about to end up in my quarters, is he? Relax.’

‘I’m perfectly relaxed,’ Bone said, tensely. ‘But I know you, you’re heart-on-your-sleeve. And he’s a robot. Don’t go getting your heart broken.’

Jim rolled his eyes, but nodded. ‘It’ll be fine. Trust me.’ He brightened. ‘Do you know where the heart-on-your-sleeve expression comes from?’

‘Soulmates,’ Bones sighed. ‘I do have more than one brain cell rattling around in here, you know. And that’s another reason for you not to get tied up with Spock – I mean in a relationship, stop giggling at me. Vulcans. They do arranged marriages, you know? Spock might already be taken.’

That brought Jim up short. ‘Oh.’

‘Logical, isn’t it?’ Bones said with distaste. ‘Why waste time romancing someone when you can have a mate ready and waiting to go, doesn’t matter what they look like and all Vulcans have the same personality anyway.’

This was news to Jim, who had had to learn about Vulcans fast when he joined the academy, and most of that was the language. There hadn’t been a lot of study about Vulcan personal relationships, probably because it would rarely come up in diplomacy. He’d learnt more from being aboard the _Enterprise_ than he had from years of lectures and training. Turns out there was more to Vulcans than just avoiding handshakes and trying to understand the written language. Turns out, they could be excellent friends, and you might even find them in your thoughts when you were alone at night.

Turns out, Jim is an even bigger idiot that he thought he was.

He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter, anyway. Nothing’s going to happen.’

Bones groaned.

*

Jim was almost relieved when they beamed down not onto a Pleasure Planet, but onto a fairly serene, green world of little galactic importance. There was a nightlife district, of course there was, but it didn’t make Spock’s nostrils flare in distaste, so it worked well for the both of them. And when they ended up in a bar after visiting one of the better vegetarian restaurants Jim had been to, Spock even made good on his promise to loosen up by ordering a chocolate milkshake.

‘I wish I could get drunk on chocolate,’ Jim sighed, rolling something luminous around his glass. ‘Most booze actually tastes like ass.’

‘Then why drink it?’ Spock asked. ‘Unless you enjoy that particular flavour.’

Jim wasn’t drunk enough to giggle, but he did pull a stupid face before answering. ‘People do a lot of stupid crap because they like the results. And don’t say it’s _illogical_. I know it is.’

‘Humans certainly do justify the means with the ends, to choose a phrase from your planet,’ Spock mused, stirring his milkshake with the metal straw. ‘I am wondering if emotions themselves are a sort of drug.’

‘Chemicals are chemicals, doesn’t matter if you pop them in a pill or make them yourself,’ Jim said, remembering Bones trying not to scream at a doctor advocating taking all patients off mood stabilisers. ‘We like them. Doesn’t even have to be happy ones, sometimes.’

‘Captain?’

‘Well, I mean. Look at rollercoasters. Or, maybe not, have you ever been on one? Whatever. It’s the thrill of being scared. Somehow makes you enjoy it. What’s that about?’

‘From an evolutionary perspective, it would seem that the survival of the great risk needs a reward, to ensure you might try it again?’

Jim smiled – a lazy one that tried to reach from ear to ear, and he knew he was teetering on the edge of drunk. He liked this stage. The moment where you could decide whether or not to carry on. Drunk enough to know it, yet sober enough to know how to shake it off quickly. It was like being able to see both futures at once.

He swallowed the rest of what was in his glass, and took the plunge. ‘Bones tells me you’ve got an arranged marriage.’

Spock looked up in shock. ‘Doctor McCoy said that?’

‘Actually, he didn’t mention you specifically. Just Vulcans. Is it true, though?’

‘For a great many people, yes,’ Spock said. ‘Actually, the term _arranged_ is a little inaccurate. We are matched with individuals as a sort of… fail-safe. Should we be unable or unwilling to find a mate by ourselves.’

'Huh. I kind-of like that, but… what if you never want to… with anyone?’

‘There are certainly individuals who are averse to mating and bonding in any respect,’ Spock said. ‘Their wishes are respected, of course.’

Jim nodded, languidly. There were humans with no interest in relationships or sex, but they still had soul-mates, their Echoes appearing on their skin with regularity. Naturally, this meant that soul-mates were more than just a husband or wife for life, but again… it wasn’t an exact science. He waved at the bar-keeper for their attention, and held up his empty glass. Spock pushed his empty milkshake glass across the counter, too. He didn’t look drunk yet, but he was blinking more often than usual at least.

Spock gave Jim’s bare forearms – the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbow – a deliberate look. ‘I must ask - is it unusual?’ He questioned. ‘To have no Echoes?’

‘Very.’ Jim picked up his refilled glass. ‘Usually a something that only happens for kids, or the elderly. Basically, when your soul-mate hasn’t been born yet, or has died. It does happen to people my age, of course, but… it’s a talking point.’

‘Forgive me, I did not mean to imply that –’

‘It’s fine,’ Jim stopped him. ‘I asked you about your arrangements, tit for tat.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Nevermind. Hey, can I ask you something?’ He sipped his drink. ‘Is that how your mom found your dad? Did she have Vulcan writing on her skin?’

Spock’s ear-tips went green. ‘No. She did not.’

‘Oh…’

‘Vulcans do not have Echoes,’ he said. ‘The Echoes on Amanda’s skin were from a human being she had no idea where to find, and she had no interest in finding either. I gather she sometimes draws on herself still, though. It… is a connection I do not understand. If she has chosen to be with my father, why maintain communication with another?’

‘It’s not like cheating,’ Jim said. ‘It’s… your soul-mate is a connection you’ll always have, and always have had. Apparently. She’s not saying she’ll run away with some random human, she’s just… keeping part of herself alive. Soul-mates aren’t just a partner. They’re part of you. So I’m told.’

Spock surveyed him levelly, though his hand was propping up his chin. ‘What would you do if they wrote to you now?’

‘Probably tell them to fuck off,’ Jim snorted. ‘I dunno. Ask them where’d they’d been all my life? Not that they’d probably get the message, that’s probably too direct. In fairness, I haven’t been writing to them, either.’

‘For how long?’

‘Since… I was a teenager. There was a time… look, there was a time when I was with a group of kids and we were all struggling a lot, and their soul-mates kept them sane, you know? Helped them get through it, even if they couldn’t say exactly what was going on. And I had no one. I wrote and wrote and drew and scribbled but nothing. And then, on the darkest day… I stopped. They weren’t ever going to write back. I couldn’t afford to worry about it, or them, anymore. I had bigger problems.’ Jim realised he’d tipped back into sober again, and he didn’t like it. Spock was frowning slightly at him, as if trying to work something out. ‘Sorry. You got me offloading onto you, again.’

‘Talking to people you trust about poor experiences is mentally beneficial,’ Spock sighed. ‘Although I would recommend talking to someone qualified as well as your crew.’

Jim nodded, adding that to the pile of times Bones had told him to go and get some therapy for Christ’s sake.

The mood had certainly been killed, so he and Spock left the bar and started the too-sober walk back to the hotel. Jim couldn’t shake the misery that was building in his chest – one mention, or half-mention, of _that_ time of his life was all it took. It wasn’t Spock’s fault for asking, of course, but Jim really just wanted to be alone, right now. At the bottom of a bottle, preferably, but even that looked to be off the cards.

‘Captain,’ Spock broke the silence as they reached the hotel, ‘I apologise if I have caused you anxiety or distress in any way.’

‘It’s fine, it’s not you,’ Jim sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘So much for a fun time ashore.’ 

‘On the contrary, Captain, I enjoyed myself very much.’ Spock glanced at the hotel. ‘That is not an irregular occurrence when spending time with you, however.’

Jim looked up. ‘Oh?’

Spock gave a nod.

‘Oh, well. That’s good to know.’ Jim wished again he’d had more drinks. Spock was giving him that blank-without-being-blank stare and Jim really wanted to just…

‘I’m going to bed,’ he said, loudly.

Spock blinked. ‘Affirmative, Captain. I shall retire to my chamber, also.’

They went into the hotel together, shared a silent elevator up to their floor, before separating at their own doors, and neither of them slept very much.

*

Jim told himself he was going to stop being an idiot, after that. He kept Spock metaphorically at arm’s length for a few weeks after their shore leave, prompting the science officer to ask if he had angered his captain in any way. Jim quickly denied this, and their chess games and lunches gradually resumed, to both the relief and annoyance of various members of the crew.

Then, around two months later, Ensign Chekov was not at his station on the bridge.

‘He’s sick, sir,’ Uhura said from her console. ‘Doctor McCoy has signed him off for a few days.’

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Jim frowned.

‘I don’t know, sir, his sign-on just says ‘illness’.’

Jim felt unduly concerned. He knew you couldn’t have this many people living in close quarters and have no illnesses at all flying about, but Chekov was one of those unusually healthy people who never seemed to pick up the viruses everyone else did. For him to be absent at all was highly unusual. Perhaps it wasn’t a physical illness, Jim mused to himself. Everyone reached their limit, eventually.

He let himself down to the medical bay after his shift.

Bones was looking over a scan, and didn’t seem surprised when Jim came into view. ‘I wondered when you’d be down. He’s fine, physically.’

‘Physically.’

‘Well, you’d better talk to him about that…’ Bones led the way over to where Chekov was lying in bed, staring at his arms which were scrawled in messy red Echoes. He was pale and trembling, his eyes deep in the sockets.

‘Pavel? The Captain’s come to visit you.’ Bones looked between them both. ‘Chekov?’

Chekov looked up. ‘Oh. Captain.’

Jim could see that the messy Echoes were words. But what did they say? ‘I saw you were absent, thought I’m come check on my best mathematician. Doctor McCoy looking after you?’

‘I didn’t know who else to go to,’ Chekov said. ‘I thought… I didn’t know who to tell.’ He looked down at his arms. ‘They’re not answering me.’

Jim turned his head to see, and felt his bones freeze over.

The messages on the young ensign’s arms were clearly written in blood. The faded lettering, the fingerprints… these were Echoes written by someone covered in blood.

_H e L p_

_Pls sEnD HELP_

‘Jesus Christ,’ Jim took a step back, without meaning to. Chekov’s sorrowful eyes followed him.

‘Do they always write in English?’ Bones asked.

‘Not always. At first yes, and then I used Russian and I think they learned so we could both write to one another. But this… This is panic…’ Chekov touched over the Echoes. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

Jim took a deep breath. ‘When was the last Echo you got?’ he asked.

‘About eight hours ago, Captain.’ The marks would linger for another day, yet.

‘I don’t think the rest of the crew need to see this, for anyone’s sake,’ Bones said firmly. ‘It’s Ensign Chekov’s private business, and it’s not exactly something pleasant. It was my suggestion that he stay here until it fades or until he receives another Echo.’

‘I don’t think there’s going to be another,’ the young man said softly. ‘I don’t even know their name, but I know they’re dead. I can feel it.’

‘Feel it?’ Jim asked, despite himself. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know if I can explain it, Captain, but… I feel loss. I feel… like there is a part of me been taken away.’

Bones was nodding, but Jim just felt confused. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘You – you were aware of your soul-mate?’

‘Not aware like I am aware of you,’ Chekov said, ‘but in the way that you know where your bed is, in the dark. You could find your cup, or glasses, without opening your eyes. That’s what it is like. Was like.’ He lay back against the pillows. ‘I don’t know what to do. They were begging for help and I don’t know where they were, or if I could have helped them. And now I’ll never know who they were.'

Jim stayed with Chekov for the evening meal. He didn’t know exactly why. People did lose their soul-mates, sometimes violently like Chekov, but it was rare for it to happen so young. In a way, it was not too dissimilar to what Jim had been through, except he had never gotten a goodbye or an explanation of any sort.

‘Is it hard? Living with no Echoes?’ Chekov asked as they started on pudding.

‘It can be,’ Jim said honestly. ‘People look at you, and see you’re a Blank, and think you need sympathy. Can work pretty well as an ice-breaker, I have to say. But it’s lonely. You see people doodling to their soul-mate and know there’s no point in you even trying. It’s like everyone knows a secret you don’t. Maybe worse for you, actually, since you did have it for so long. Sorry.’

Chekov looked surprised. ‘You… never had any Echoes at all, Captain? Ever?’

‘Nope.’ Jim popped his spoon down onto his tray. ‘Never. I don’t know what that says about me.’

‘I think it says more about them,’ Chekov said. ‘Or perhaps it is… not as simple as it appears.’

‘How’d you mean?’

‘Wasn’t there an officer with an Orion soul-mate?’

Jim grinned. ‘Yeah, there was. Crazy son of a bitch lived with that all his life. But they wrote back! Whoever they were, they knew enough about human culture to know how Echoes worked, and they wrote back. So, even if my soul-mate’s on the other side of the universe… they’re a dickhead who’s never picked up a pen.’

Chekov looked disappointed. ‘I am sorry, Captain.’

‘Don’t be. I think you’ve got yourself to feel sorry for, first.’ Jim sighed, looking at the bloody streaks down his ensign’s arms. ‘Jesus.’

‘It’s a strange thing,’ Chekov said slowly. ‘I feel sad, and yet… I never knew them. I have to mourn for someone who never gave me more than words on my skin. Because they were part of me, though I had no say in it.’

‘It’s an illogical as any human activity, I would venture,’ Spock’s voice came from the doorway. ‘Ensign Chekov, I was perturbed by your absence on the bridge, today.’

‘Lucky me with two visitors,’ he smiled. Then frowned. ‘Does Dr McCoy know you’re here, Mr Spock?’

Spock ignored the question, and his eyebrows twitched as he read the Echoes on the young man’s skin. ‘Chekov…’

‘Why don’t I give you two some space?’ Jim stood up. ‘Bones’ll be raging if he finds two visitors at a bedside, anyway. Chekov, take all the time you need to get back on your feet. I mean it – your mental health is priority, got it?’

‘Yes, Captain.’

Spock moved to slightly block Jim’s path. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah,’ Jim lied. ‘It’s fine.’ He put a hand on Spock’s shoulder as he passed him, and escaped from the sickbay before Bones could catch him.

*

‘But mother,’ the child asked, ‘if you have a true mate, why would you have come here, to be with Sarek?’

His mother smiled fondly, enjoying the privacy of their own home. ‘Because I love your father. I have never met my soul-mate.’

The child’s head moved slightly in a tilt. ‘I’m not sure I understand. Surely you would be happier with your soul-mate?’

‘Or I might spend my whole life hunting for them and never find them,’ she said. Then her smile faded. ‘They have stopped writing to you, haven’t they?’

Spock looked down at his robe-covered arms. ‘Seven standard months, three days ago,’ he said. He had not told anyone what that last message had been. _He’s going to kill us all_. From the silence that followed, it looked as though the prophecy on his skin had been correct. ‘What happens if they die?’ he asked.

Amanda looked shocked for an instant, then calm once again. ‘The Echoes simply stop.’

Spock gave a nod. ‘Then, logically, I must conclude that my soul-mate is deceased.’

‘How can you come to such a conclusion?’

He looked into his mother’s eyes. ‘Because they told me they were going to die.’

*

‘We’re going to die,’ Jim groaned, head in his hands.

‘I don’t share your pessimism, Captain,’ Spock said, walking carefully around the perimeter of the cell. ‘Starfleet will track us and the crew with engineer a rescue, or at least negotiate for our release.’

Jim looked up. ‘Where’s your sense of drama? Live a little. We’ve got to be dramatic so it’s funny when the crew turn up to save us in a few hours.’ He stretched out on the floor of the brightly-lit cell. The place smelled faintly of disinfectant, which was both comforting and concerning. It wasn’t unlike him to be captured, but this time he hadn’t even committed a faux pas. He’d barely put a foot down on the surface of the planet before being bundled off to a prison, Spock in tow.

So, things could be worse. At least he had a decent cell-mate.

Did he say things could be worse?

Oh, sometimes Jim Kirk hated being right.

‘How long have we been here?’ he asked after falling asleep and waking up with a mouth as dry as sand. ‘Feels like forever.’

‘We have been in the cell for twenty-three hours, sixteen minutes, Captain,’ Spock said. His eyes were closed like he was doing that Vulcan meditation thing. ‘You slept for four hours and thirty-five minutes.’

‘That long, huh.’ Jim got up, stretching blood back into his muscles. His neck and back and head all hurt. He looked around the cell, the bright artificial light hurting his eyes. ‘Is there any water?’

‘Negative, Captain,’ Spock said, opening his eyes. ‘We have been provided with neither food nor water.’

‘What?’ Jim was startled. ‘You serious?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Shit.’ Speaking of which… He looked around for a bucket, anything.

Spock twigged pretty quickly. ‘Nor have we been provided with anywhere to relieve ourselves,’ he said, grimly even for him.

‘Fantastic…’ The cell was empty, save for them. ‘Right, then.’ Jim pulled off his gold tunic so he was left in only his undershirt, and kicked it into a corner. ‘It’ll stop the place getting wet, at least.’

Spock closed his eyes again and Jim tried to convince himself that the Vulcan was unable to see or hear him for a minute.

‘Have you heard the guards, at all?’ Jim asked, later.

‘Nothing. It would appear we have been abandoned.’ Spock rolled his neck and shoulders. ‘We should conserve energy. If we are to be left without food and water for a long period of time, then energy expenditure must be limited.’

‘You’ll last longer than me,’ Jim said, sitting back on the floor.

‘Correct. But that fact is irrelevant. You last consumed water more than twenty-seven hours ago, and humans require –’

‘I know what humans require,’ Jim snapped. Then let his head fall back to bang against the wall. ‘Sorry.’

‘Irritability is a symptom of dehydration, Captain,’ Spock said softly. ‘You do not need to apologise to me. We are without means of communication, and although I do not doubt that we will be found, time is very much of the essence.’

Jim looked down at his bare arms. ‘Communication…’ he murmured.

‘Captain?’

Jim gave a laugh. ‘It just… communication. Made me think of Chekov. The last Echoes he got. That’s me, right now.’

‘Ah.’ Spock blinked. ‘You think you could communicate with the outside world via your soul-mate.’

‘I don’t even think so,’ Jim shook his head. ‘They’ve never responded, and besides – giving your location never gets through. What am I going to write – Help, I’m somewhere and someone, try to find me?’

Spock’s face stayed as unreadable as ever.

‘Soul-mates are the universe’s sick joke. Right when it could actually be a useful thing, it doesn’t work. It’s ridiculous. No wonder no other race in the galaxy has to deal with this shit. We should have evolved out of it by now.’ He squeezed his eyes shut.

Spock shifted minutely on the concrete floor. ‘You aren’t the only ones.’

Jim opened his eyes. ‘What do you mean? Vulcans don’t have Echoes. Do you?’

‘No, Vulcans do not have Echoes,’ Spock said, ‘but the concept of a true mate is something Vulcans understand.’

‘Wait – what?’

‘Vulcan marriage is more than a legal joining,’ Spock said. ‘It is a bonding of minds.’

‘Through your telepathy?’

‘Indeed. There are… different levels of compatibility between minds, and there is such a thing as a perfect fit. We call it t’hy’la. And, like your soul-mates, it is not something we can deliberately search for. It would be illogical and foolish to do so. But all Vulcans know of the possibility.’ He looked almost uncomfortable explaining it.

Jim was fascinated, however. ‘So – so you get it? The whole… not knowing if you’ll ever find them?’

‘Yes, Captain, I _get it_.’ He almost smiled, and Jim’s heart gave a squeeze. ‘And I understand your frustration over your lack of contact. However illogical it is, I understand it.’

Jim smiled at him, properly, their circumstances forgotten for a few seconds as their joint illogical needs shared a space in the cell with them. Then it immediately turned to sadness, pressing all over Jim like a wet blanket.

‘Do you think we’ll die here?’ he asked, perfectly seriously.

Spock was quiet for a few seconds before answering. ‘I think we have a thirty-seven per cent chance of being rescued before you succumb to death from dehydration.’

Jim nodded. ‘Ok. Ok, that’s fine.’

‘Fine has many variable meanings, Captain.’

‘Yeah. It’s still fine.’

*

Jim dreamed of Tarsus.

The hunger was the same.

The dehydration.

The emptiness.

The knowledge that if you didn’t eat soon, you’d die.

 _He’s going to kill us all_.

And his soul-mate hadn’t even cared enough to respond. They probably thought he was dead. Well. He shortly would be.

*

‘Jim?’

God, it was cold.

‘Jim!’

Cold, and rocking. It was like being at sea, or something.

‘Captain Kirk!’

There was pain everywhere. Why couldn’t he just die in peace?

‘Captain…’

A hand on his arm, cold fingers that seemed to nudge at his brain, pushing him over the edge into unconsciousness, but the good kind, this time. To sleep.

To rest.

*

Jim woke up a day later in the med bay, looking right into Bones’ face.

‘Oh no,’ he said.

Bones looked murderous. ‘Oh yes,’ he snarled, brandishing a hypo.

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Jim whined. Then yelped as Bones stabbed him. ‘Do you have to? How long we were in there? Is Spock ok?’

‘The Vulcan’s fine,’ Bones said. ‘I kicked him out of here yesterday. You, however, were in a state. And you still are.’

‘I feel like shit.’

‘I’m not surprised. You were seriously dehydrated, another few hours and you’d be dead. You’re not leaving here in a hurry.’

‘I’m starving.’

‘Tough shit. You’re not having solid foods until I get your levels right.’

‘You’re a terrible doctor, you know that?’

Bones snorted, but looked pleased. ‘Give it another six hours and I’ll let you have some soup. But you should have seen yourself. Thank god you were with Spock – never thought I’d catch myself saying that.’

‘What – why?’

‘He managed to keep you in a state of unconsciousness using that telepathy thing. Slowed your metabolism down, stopped your mind from overworking. Probably bought you another few hours.’

Jim stared at the doctor. ‘Spock saved my life?’

‘Pretty much.’

Jim kept on staring as Bones fussed around him, eventually leaving Jim on his own, to his thoughts. He was halfway through a bowl of soup when Spock came in to see him. The Vulcan looked the same as ever, none the worse for their misadventure.

‘Captain. It is good to see you sitting up,’ he said, standing with his hands behind his back at Jim’s bedside.

‘I hear I owe you some thanks,’ Jim said. ‘Bones said you kept me alive, pretty much.’

‘An exaggeration, I’m afraid. I slowed your metabolic process and calmed your mind to save you from the stresses of the situation. Forgive me, I had to do so without asking your permission.’

‘Well, consider this blanket permission to save my life at any time,’ Jim grinned.

Spock shifted as if he was uncomfortable. ‘I was referring to the intrusion into your mind.’

‘Oh,’ Jim said in surprise. ‘Well…’ He glanced down at his soup. ‘Again, anytime. I don’t really remember much.’

Spock looked relieved. ‘I am pleased to hear it. It can often bring up unpleasant memories. Particularly if you are already in distress.’

_Tarsus… the feeling of starvation, amplified by the fear of a child’s mind, the knowledge no help was ever going to come…_

Jim put his spoon down. ‘Right. I, er… thought that was just the starvation talking. In my head.’

‘So you did experience memory disturbances?’ The eyebrow went up a fraction.

‘I wouldn’t say disturbances,’ Jim said. ‘Just… shit I’d rather keep filed away, you know?’ He pushed his tray away. ‘Did you… see anything? In my head?’

‘No,’ Spock said honestly. ‘No, you were starving and delirious. I only felt your emotions, against a backdrop of red dust.’

Jim snorted. ‘Well, that’s pretty much the gist of it. Still, between that and death…’ he shrugged. ‘Bones said you’re fine?’

‘Doctor McCoy insisted on my staying the night, but Vulcans are hardier than humans. You must take your time to recover.’

‘Not like I’ve got a choice right now, it hurts to even think about walking. Everything alright on the ship?’

‘Yes, Captain. Our current course has been slowed since you are incapacitated, but there is a planned botany expedition due to take place tomorrow.’

Jim actually felt relaxed by the idea of something planned still going ahead. ‘Great. You going with them?’

Spock hesitated.

‘I know you love sitting in my chair,’ Jim grinned, ‘but you are the chief science officer, and you’re not bed-bound. Go stretch your legs, the _Enterprise_ will be fine.’

‘If you insist, Captain, but the ship –’

‘Hey, I’ll sit in my own damn chair,’ Jim said, mock-threateningly. ‘Bones can’t have a problem with that if we’re just in orbit.’

‘Doctor McCoy can find a problem in almost any circumstance, I find,’ Spock said mildly. ‘However, I would agree with you – it is a routine expedition to a known planet, after all. And you seem much better than yesterday.’ He glanced at the bowl of soup half-finished on the tray. ‘I would suggest you finish that, Captain.’

‘It’s fine,’ Jim lied, ‘it tastes like toilet water anyway. And don’t ask me how I know that. I’ll grab something real later.’ He let his head drop back against the propped-up bed. Then smiled. ‘Hey… what you said in the cell. About Vulcans having true mates. Is that like… common knowledge, or?’

Spock’s lips went thin. ‘I believe it is less common knowledge than that of our arranged joinings, Captain,’ he said tartly.

Jim frowned. ‘Any reason why? It hardly sounds like a bad thing from where I’m sitting.’

Spock glanced at the ceiling. ‘I suspect it to be spoken of little simply because it can seem illogical,’ he said. ‘If humans bore no physical marks of your soul-mates, you would have no proof they existed at all. Much like a t’hy’la… you would only know it once it was encountered, and perhaps never at all. And yet, you would be satisfied with a different partner, would you not?’

‘I guess so,’ Jim said. ‘Sorry I asked.’

‘It is quite alright, Captain. It is natural to be curious about other cultures.’

Jim gave a sad laugh. ‘You know what I was thinking back there? I should have been the bigger man with my soul-mate. Kept writing. Given them another chance. And I was thinking I’d left it too late, and I didn’t want my message to be like the Echoes Chekov got. But now…’ he shrugged. ‘What would you do? Let it go?’

Spock was quiet, as if he was considering. ‘What would you say to them?’ he asked eventually.

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’d just draw a tree on my arm.’

‘It would seem illogical to attempt to pursue a soul-mate after so long with no Echoes,’ Spock said. ‘But I am not human. I do not always see what you see.’ His expression was as guarded as ever, but his tone was somewhat blunt. ‘I must go and inform the science party that I shall be joining their landing.’ And with that, he walked smartly out of the med bay.

Jim watched him go, feeling more than a little confused. What had he said?

*

Bones fussed over letting Jim go, but as the captain was walking and talking and eating (sort of), he had no real reason to detain him. ‘You just watch yourself,’ he said venomously, following Jim down the corridor like a sheepdog. ‘If I find out you’ve fainted or fallen asleep at the conn –’

‘Knock it off, Bones,’ Jim swatted him away. ‘I don’t need babying. Don’t you have other patients to see to?’

‘No one else who almost dehydrated to death, no…’ Bones aimed the temperature wand at Jim’s face as they walked. ‘And what did you say to Spock, anyway? He’s been in a foul mod since he saw you, not that I blame him.’

‘Har har. I don’t know. When we were in the cell we got to talking about soul mates, and yesterday I asked him if he thought I should try to get in touch with mine again. And then he went off in a huff.’

‘You asked him that?’ Bones stopped walking and Jim almost collided with him.

‘Sure. Why wouldn’t I?’

Bones made an _are you stupid_ face.

‘Oh, come on. He doesn’t know about… and it’s just a crush. And besides, Vulcans have true mates too, did you know that? So I asked his advice.’

‘You’re an ass,’ Bones sighed, walking again. ‘You’d have done better shutting up about it all. He’s barely left your damn bedside for crying out loud, and then you go and ask him that.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Bones just shook his head.

Jim entered the Bridge to quietly welcoming looks from the crew, and no announcement, which he appreciated. He sat down in the chair and asked for a report on what he’d missed, and spent an enjoyable hour being briefed about the fairly dull journey and current orbit.

He watched the ten little dots that were the _Enterprise_ scientists’ trackers moving about onscreen. ‘They’re not exactly running around, are they?’ he mused.

‘Fairly dull expedition, as they go,’ Uhura offered her opinion. ‘Still, it can’t all be running and shooting, can it?’

‘Apparently not,’ Jim said. He watch Uhura adjust her headset and type something into her console. ‘Busy?’

‘Not as such, but it’s good to stay alert, Captain.’ She kept her eyes on the screen. Her arms were covered with drawing of plants and trees, some labelled, some not. Her soul-mate had to be a scientist, maybe a biologist. Or maybe a gardener, who knew?

Jim looked away, surreptitiously checking the limbs of the rest of the crew during the shift. There wasn’t a single one of them (at least of those who had their arms exposed, and that was only about a quarter of the attending crew due to regulations) who was unmarked.

Guilt started to pool in Jim’s empty stomach. He had spent so long thinking he’d been abandoned by his soul-mate that he hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same thing. Maybe they were both stalled, both too craven to start up a conversation after all this time. Besides, it was harmless, wasn’t it? A simple hello, written into skin?

Jim mentally shook his head. No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t give himself the hope, or deal with the disappointment again. Spock was right, as usual, it was illogical to search for someone you had no hope of meeting. And it was worse for Spock, he might end up married to someone just for the sake of it. At least Jim didn’t have that hanging over his head. Suddenly, he felt bad about pushing Spock over true mates, and guessed it was probably the constant questioning that had worn his friend down. He’d have to get him over for a game of chess that evening, show him he could talk about something else.

Mood lightened somewhat, Jim turned his full attention back to being the captain.

*

It wasn’t until he was changing for the evening, alone in his quarters, that he noticed it.

A line of ink that rose and fell in edges that were soft and sharp. A skyline of mountains, or a maybe a river, or maybe just a wibbly line, drawn on someone else’s skin. Echoed through Jim’s, right at the inside of his elbow.

He stared at it in silent horror.

He grabbed his wet towel and scrubbed at the mark, which of course did not budge. He grabbed his tricorder and scanned it. The device offered no help, simply reading Jim’s arm, as it always did.

He slapped himself hard, in case this was a dream, but the Echo remained, a black inky line like calligraphy ink bleeding through from across the galaxy.

*

He couldn’t tell anyone. He absolutely could not tell anyone. At all.

He pulled on long sleeves and combed his hair and walked down to Spock’s quarters like everything was normal and they were going to play chess and nothing out of the ordinary was happening at all.

Spock opened his door and immediately made a make of concern. ‘Captain, you’re perspiring,’ he pointed out.

‘Yeah, it’s hot in your place,’ Jim said, ignoring the fact he was still in the corridor.

Spock looked pointedly at the doorway, but didn’t argue, letting Jim into the admittedly warm room, where the chess game was set up.

‘How was the planet?’ Jim asked, dropping into one of the low seats at the floor, and upsetting two chess pieces in the process.

‘Pleasant, thank you.’ Spock reset the board. ‘I think you would have enjoyed it.’

‘Next time.’ Jim pushed a pawn forward without really thinking about it, especially since he was playing black. ‘Your move.’

Spock stared at him. ‘Captain, are you ill? You’re very agitated.’

‘I’m fine.’ Jim wished he didn’t sound quite so hysterical. ‘Glad we’re doing this. Nice to get back to normality.’

‘I too have missed the games,’ Spock said, moving a pawn of his own. ‘It has not made for entertaining evenings with you in the med bay.’

‘Well, now you’ve got me all to yourself,’ Jim grinned. The inky Echo on his arm seemed to burn under his sleeve. ‘No one else to compete with.’

Spock gave him a weird look. ‘Chess can hardly be played by more than two, Captain.’

‘That’s not what – doesn’t matter.’ Jim moved a knight, enjoying the annoyance that passed over Spock’s face, the way it always did when Jim moved pieces at random. ‘Tell me about the planet. I want to hear about it.’

So, Spock talked, and Jim listened and gradually his heart rate came down and he almost forgot about the Echo inside his elbow. He would ignore it. They ignored him, so he would ignore them. He watched Spock’s mouth move, the delicate yet sure motion of his fingers as he picked up the chess pieces, the quick dart of his eyes as he strategized the best way to win the game… Jim never failed to be fascinated by the Vulcan. Maybe he should never have talked about soul-mates on their shore leave. That’s when it all started to go wrong. They should have had a couple more drinks and done something stupid, instead.

Maybe they still could.

‘Next time there’s a shore leave,’ Jim said before he could talk himself out of it, ‘do you want to go together? Again, I mean.’

Spock gave him a cool stare. ‘Am I not too boring for you, Captain?’

‘Never,’ Jim said emphatically. ‘I…’ he wavered over the unsaid.

Spock put him out of his misery. ‘It would be my pleasure, Jim,’ he said. ‘Next time.’

Jim smiled widely at the use of his first name. ‘Y’know we don’t have to wait. I’ve got some dark chocolate in my quarters, and I know where Bones keeps his booze.’ He grinned.

Spock’s mouth twitched. ‘Perhaps not the night before we are both on duty,’ he said.

‘Good point. But still… the offer’s there.’

‘Thank you. And… checkmate, sir.’

Jim didn’t even bother looking down at the board. ‘Well played,’ he said. He stood, and walked around the table, putting a hand to Spock’s shoulder before leaning down to his ear to say softly, ‘Whenever you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.’ And he didn’t miss the shiver that ran over Spock’s body at his words.

Soul-mates be damned.

Jim knew who he wanted.

And he wasn’t going to fuck it up again.

*

He was tempted to cross out the Echo, and send a message that way, but in the end he did nothing. After three days, the mark faded, and no new one appeared. Jim was relieved. If he didn’t reply, the Echoes would stop. It was just logical.

And speaking of logical, it only took four more days for him to get Spock into his quarters, the chess game quickly forgotten as they both allowed themselves the indulgence of being mildly tipsy, and (in Jim’s case) extremely giggly. They were watching a rerun of some show from Earth that made no sense and had no plot, but somehow made you keep watching just to see if the two characters were going to get together or not.

‘Remember when you were a kid,’ Jim grinned stupidly, ‘and you’d have a sleepover and the last thing you did was sleep?’ He giggled into the cushion he was hanging onto.

‘Vulcan children don’t have sleepovers,’ Spock said. He’d had two squares of very dark chocolate and was lounging on Jim’s bed, staring at the screen.

‘Illogical,’ Jim said, neither asking nor telling, just saying it for the sake of saying it. ‘And you’d stay up all night talking about god knows what and teaching each other how to kiss.’

Spock blinked. ‘Pardon?’

‘You never did that? Well, maybe that was just something that happened at Davey White’s sleepovers.’ Jim, on the floor, looked up at Spock and smirked. ‘Vulcans don’t kiss, do they?’

‘They certainly do,’ Spock said. ‘It’s just not as damp as when you do it.’

‘Damp!’ Jim burst out laughing. ‘We’re all about the moisture, us humans.’

‘You certainly are. Vulcan intimacy is much more refined.’

‘Hey. Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.’

‘You’re implying I have not tried it.’

Jim’s eyes went wide. ‘You _have_ tried it!’ He tried to push himself up on the mattress but slipped off it with a thud. ‘Who’ve you been kissing, Mr Spock?’

‘No one I’d care to bring into the conversation,’ Spock said with dignity. ‘And besides, you kiss a great many… people.’

‘No one I’d care to bring into the conversation,’ Jim countered. ‘Are you jealous?’

Spock gave him a level stare. ‘Are _you_?’

Jim wished he was sober enough to stare back without having to rest his chin on the mattress as he smiled dopily. ‘Isn’t Vulcan kissing just holding hands?’ he asked.

‘Nooo,’ Spock drew out the word in a very un-Spock-like way. ‘Holding hands is holding hands. A touch can have many meanings.’

‘So what’s kissing like?’

‘Like… this.’ Spock raised both his hands with the index and middle fingers extended like guns, and ran them deliberately over each other once, twice.

It looked incredibly tame, and Jim snorted with laughter into the mattress.

‘Oh, and I suppose sharing saliva with someone is much preferred,’ Spock said, indignantly. 

‘You don’t have to lick them,’ Jim said. ‘You can do it dry.’ He frowned. ‘That came out wrong.’ He held his hand up in the two-finger shape Spock had demonstrated. ‘So this is like pursing your lips. Smooch time, ready when you are.’

‘Captain,’ Spock said, as firmly as he could manage whilst propped up on one elbow on the bed, ‘I am not going to teach you how to kiss. This is not a Terran sleepover.’

‘It could be if you didn’t go ho-ome,’ Jim sing-songed, keeping his fingers up. He clambered half onto the bed, the edge of the mattress pressed against his stomach. ‘Come on. Ka-pow,’ he cocked his fingers like a pistol. ‘Give me your best sho –’ he stopped as Spock got him by the wrist, his thumb pressed firmly against Jim’s palm. Jim stared at the contact. ‘Oh,’ he said.

‘We are both intoxicated,’ Spock said. ‘This is not what I want.’

Jim sat back, taking his hand away. ‘Spock, I’m so sorry, I thought that –’

‘I mean, being intoxicated in this situation,’ Spock sat up. ‘If we were both sober, my inclination would be different.’

‘You… mean you’d…’

‘I mean I would teach you how to kiss,’ Spock’s eyes glittered. ‘If I could be certain we were both in a frame of mind suited best to consent.’

Jim opened his mouth to argue, but he knew the Vulcan was right. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Ok. I mean, yeah, that’s what I… want.’

Spock didn’t smile, but his face lit up in a way Jim saw so rarely and yet treasured so much. ‘I am pleased to hear it, Jim. I have been… worried that my affections were one-sided.’

‘Fuck no,’ Jim said quickly. ‘I mean. No. I… I never thought to ask.’

‘And I feared you were preoccupied with your soul-mate,’ Spock said.

Jim blushed. ‘I guess I was, a bit. I can’t promise that’ll ever go away, though. Being annoyed about it.’

‘I appreciate your honesty,’ Spock said. ‘And I find that I do not mind. As you have said before, they have never contacted you. I understand the disappointment, but I cannot afford to be jealous of someone who clearly cares so little for you.’

Jim almost blurted it out, then. About the squiggling line that had appeared on his skin. But what would be the point? He was on the verge of getting everything he wanted.

‘And what about you and your…. mind-mate,’ he said, not even trying to attempt the Vulcan pronunciation. ‘You not bothered about finding them?’

Spock paused, before answering. ‘No, Jim,’ he said. ‘I am not concerned about finding them.’

Jim felt relief wash over him, and he realised he’d been more worried about that than he cared to admit. Spock had probably felt the same way. Now, the air was clear, wasn’t it? He got up onto the bed, and touched Spock on the sleeve. Spock looked warmly down at the touch, but didn’t reciprocate. That was ok, though.

‘I meant what I said,’ Jim insisted. ‘I’m ready when you are. I’m done waiting for someone who doesn’t care.’

Spock gave one of his barely-there smiles, and Jim’s heart sang.

*

Jim turned out to be rather good at Vulcan kissing.

And Spock turned out to be devastatingly good at human kissing.

And Jim found out what Spock’s hair looked like when it was messed up.

And Spock discovered that Jim was ticklish in quite unexpected places.

And Jim had to admit that there was something quite unique about having someone touch you and suddenly see their memories and feel their want for you as fierce as your want for them.

And Spock whispered in Vulcan as Jim came apart under his hands.

*

As they were trying to keep their relationship quiet from the crew, they rarely spent the night with one another. As a result, Jim was thankfully alone the day he turned on the light and stood up to find another Echo on his arm.

And this time, it was written in a language he recognised by sight, but could not read.

And his stomach clenched in icy fright.

The spirals, circles and loops of Vulcan text ran from elbow to wrist down his arm, as bold as brass. He stared at it in horror. Then silently dressed, and went straight down to hammer on Uhura’s door.

‘Jim, what the hell?’ she was dressed but annoyed at the hour. ‘What’s so important –’ she gawped as he dived into her quarters. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Close the door, please?’ he hissed.

She did as he asked, looking very confused. ‘Captain Kirk, this isn’t –’ she stopped as Jim yanked his sleeve up. ‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, oh. Big oh.’ Jim held his arm out. ‘What does it say?’

‘ _After so long, I can only apologise_.’ She read, then looked at him, frowning. ‘But. You don’t have Echoes.’

‘No shit.’

‘This is written in Vulcan.’

‘Right.’

She glanced at him. ‘You know, there have been rumours about you and –’

‘Stop that right now,’ Jim said. ‘It won’t be. Trust me on that. This… this is a sick joke. Someone who knows about me and Spock trying to stir shit up…’ he was aware he was confessing and babbling but Uhura didn’t seem to mind. ‘Seeing I’m with a Vulcan and then sending an Echo in their language? That’s sick, right?’

‘Are you _sure_ it isn’t Spock?’

Jim paused. ‘We need to check. It won’t be, but we need to check.’

‘I’ll ask Doctor McCoy to take some blood,’ she suggested. ‘We can say there was a biological compound worrying him from the planet they went down to the other week.’

‘You’re so smart,’ Jim said, stating the obvious. ‘Ok, call him.’

Half an hour later, Bones sent a message to Jim via his PADD that Spock, although grumpy about having blood taken, was otherwise clean. ‘There’s nothing on either arm, Jim,’ the message read. ‘Sorry.’

Jim deleted the message and felt dreadful. He’d finally found someone he really liked, and now someone else was coming along. After thirty years of nothing, suddenly this. He could barely concentrate all shift, and was grateful that Spock wasn’t on the bridge. He’d have to make excuses not to see him until the Echo faded away, or at least not to take his shirt off. Spock had been so understanding about Jim’s Echo Problem, but the fact he now had Vulcan script on his arm was probably going to be the final insult.

He went to see Bones, contorted with misery.

Bones looked at the marks with disdain. ‘You,’ he said, ‘are a walking disaster. First you’re fucking a Vulcan, and now you’ve got another one writing to you. What are you – some sort of homing beacon for the pointy-eared bastards?’

Jim just flapped an arm in reply.

‘Well, there were no marks on Spock, so looks like you’re going to have to come clean to your boyfriend.’ Bones let Jim’s arm go. ‘Can’t even do a handwriting check because they all write like they’re printers. Robots, the lot of them.’

‘How am I going to tell him about this?’ Jim hissed. ‘He’s going to think I’ve caused it!’

‘Maybe you did,’ Bones said, unhelpfully. ‘Maybe when Spock messed about with your mind he opened a gateway to Vulcan soul-mate central.’

Bones was joking, but it wasn’t completely without possibility, Jim thought. The Echoes had started appearing after Spock saved his life. Oh god, what if that was true?

‘I need to talk to him,’ Jim stood up. ‘This… isn’t what I want. I need to tell him this isn’t my fault, or his.’

‘Echoes are bullshit,’ Bones said, gesturing at his own arm, where there was more math as usual. ‘They don’t mean anything ninety-nine per cent of the time. Only poor bastards like Chekov who get real dramas. And now you. Ignore it. They’ve ignored you for however long. And then sent you an apology. Well, fuck their apology. They’ve had your whole life to talk to you, and you’ve found someone by yourself.’

‘Yeah,’ Jim said, feeling bolstered. ‘Yeah, fuck them.’

‘Fuck them,’ Bones repeated. Then pulled a sympathetic face. ‘You should have told me you were with Spock, you know. I would have put you on my STI-watch list.’

‘I don’t know whether to be relieved or not that I wasn’t on it already,’ Jim snorted.

‘Well, you’re a frequent visitor to it.’

‘Ha.’ Jim checked the time. ‘Right. Time to do battle.’

‘Good luck,’ Bones called as Jim marched out. ‘You’re going to need it,’ he added.

*

Spock was down in the science department, supervising the preservation of the samples from the expedition. All the scientists involved were unhappy - for the sake of their cover, Bones and Uhura had had to insist everyone who went down to the planet have blood taken.

‘Mr Spock,’ Jim said formally. ‘Can I have a moment of your time, please?’

‘Now is not a good time, Captain,’ Spock said without turning around. ‘Is it urgent?’

‘No,’ Jim said. ‘You can… find me on the bridge when you have time.’

The was no answer, so Jim took himself back up to the bridge where he sat worrying for a while and ignoring Uhura’s concerned looks.

In fact, he was off shift by the time Spock caught up with him, looking concerned. ‘Captain.’

‘Mr Spock,’ Jim said carefully, as they were in the main corridor. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I apologise for keeping you waiting,’ he replied. ‘I… have been meditating.’

‘Meditating,’ Jim repeated. ‘You know that’s fine, you don’t have to explain yourself to me –’

‘Because I have not been completely honest with you,’ Spock blurted.

Jim stared. ‘About what?’

Spock reached for his arm, then remembered himself. ‘I think we should take this somewhere quieter.’

‘…alright.’ Jim followed the Vulcan, faintly mystified. After all, it was he who was about to confess something, wasn’t it?

Spock let Jim into his quarters, turning on the bladeless fan and pointing it at the spot Jim usually chose to sit in the warm space. Jim took his place as usual, letting Spock pace slightly before sitting down himself.

‘Spock, what’s going on?’ Jim asked. ‘I wanted to tell you something, but you look like you’ve had terrible news. What’s going on?’

‘I am afraid I have been keeping things from you, Jim,’ Spock said miserably. ‘I had hoped that one might resolve the other, but it appears not.’

‘Spock, whatever it is, we can work it out.’

‘It is not a problem to be solved, Jim,’ Spock said earnestly. ‘It is something we can either accept, or…’ he let the alternative hang silently in the room.

Jim swallowed. ‘Tell me.’

The silence was deafening.

Spock took a deep breath. ‘I told you, back in the cell, that Vulcans have true mates, but do not have Echoes.’

‘Right.’

‘Well, whilst that was not a lie, it was… not entirely the truth.’

Jim felt the Vulcan script on his arm burn. ‘You guys have Echoes, too?’

‘Vulcans do not,’ Spock said. ‘But I… did.’

Jim’s mouth dropped open like a drawbridge.

‘I was ashamed of it,’ Spock spoke on. ‘So, I never wrote back to my soul-mate. Never. I hoped beyond hope that the Echoes would stop, one day. And…’ he looked into Jim’s eyes. ‘They did.’

Jim couldn’t speak. He felt as if he’d swallowed a brick.

‘Of course, I had no way of knowing what sort of detrimental effect this might have on – on the other person,’ Spock said. ‘My mother did encourage me at first to respond, but when she heard how I was already taunted for my heritage, she ceased to mention the marks on my skin, and she and my father pretended they were not there. No one else on the whole of Vulcan knew about it, and I have never told anyone else about this. I… had hoped never to need to.’

‘Until when?’ Jim choked out. ‘Until when, Spock?’

‘Until I began to suspect my feelings towards you were romantic,’ Spock said. He looked into Jim’s eyes again. ‘I of course had a suspicion, when I heard of your Blank status. But it would be too coincidental to even query. Plus, I still harboured the shame of my childhood. But as time went on, and I felt… for you…’ He twisted his hands together. ‘This is difficult for a Vulcan to talk about, Jim.’

Jim was tempted to let him struggle, but decided to fill the silence, instead. ‘When you told me about Vulcan true mates,’ he said, ‘I was actually gutted. Because it meant you’d never want me.’

‘Likewise with your soul-mate,’ Spock said. ‘And after our imprisonment, my predicament became more complex.’

‘How so?’

‘When I entered your mind to relieve you of your hunger and struggle,’ Spock said softly, ‘I was able to slip into the folds of your consciousness like sheets on a bed. It was the easiest mind-meld I have ever done, and it was so welcoming, so… right. Though I was in your mind so briefly, I knew even then that we were a match.’

‘A match?’ Jim’s heart suddenly thundered. ‘You mean – you mean that – thy…’

‘T’hy’la,’ Spock whispered. His hand reached out, and touched at Jim’s knee. ‘My mind has called to your mind since before either of us met, and when I realised what our link meant, I was ashamed again, but not for the humanity it gave me, but for how badly I had treated you.’

Jim couldn’t say anything. He just stroked his fingers over the back of Spock’s hand, gently, massaging the moving skin over his bones. ‘So you drew me a skyline,’ he said. ‘Where was it based on?’

‘Vulcan. The view from my bed-chamber window as a child. Where I would stare out and wonder why the galaxy had given me marks from someone I would never meet.’

‘Ha.’ Jim shook his head. ‘You know you almost gave me a damn heart attack?’

‘I realised, when you came to my quarters, what distress I had caused. I knew I had mis-stepped, and vowed to win your heart another way, but…’ he lifted his hand away. ‘It was as though writing to you through your human Echoes opened a gate within me. I needed to contact you in that way again, it was torment to ignore it, torment to know you were too hurt from the past to write back. And I understood that hurt, knew what I had done to you with my silence and my hiding of the truth, and…’ Spock dropped out of his chair to his knees. ‘I beg your forgiveness.’

Jim dropped down as well, unable to stand it. ‘Spock, stop. You don’t need to apologise for this, ok? Neither of us knew. Soul-mates really are bullshit, ok? You couldn’t know what I felt getting silence and I didn’t know how it hurt you to see my Echoes on your skin. Jesus, I never meant to hurt you like that –’

‘But it wasn’t intentional,’ Spock insisted.

‘Just because neither of us meant to hurt the other, doesn’t mean it didn’t still hurt,’ Jim said, holding Spock’s head at the temples in both hands. ‘We hurt each other. And then we found each other.’ He reached down, and pulled his sleeve up. ‘Really, in Vulcan? You know I can barely read this shit.’

Spock almost laughed, a breath with sound escaping his lungs. ‘I would have written more, but I could not find the words.’

‘It’s ok. But why didn’t Bones find marks on your skin?’

‘Oh, is that why the blood test? I must say, I don’t approve of you press-ganging the ship’s doctor into that sort of scheme,’ Spock’s eyes glittered.

‘Oh, he didn’t need any encouragement. But why’s your arm clean?’

Spock smiled. ‘Echoes last many days when they come from you, but Vulcan bodies deal with and expel ink extremely quickly. By the time Doctor McCoy examined me, the message had already disappeared.’

‘Huh.’ Then, Jim smiled. ‘So. What does this mean? We’re soul-mates… _and_ t’hy’la?’ He asked, in passable pronunciation.

‘I believe they might be one and the same thing,’ Spock said. He placed his fingers gently on Jim’s temple. ‘May I show you?’

‘Of course.’

And then… it was like breathing in two bodies, like feeling two hearts beating, four eyes seeing, hands clasped tight as memories rolled like pages of a book being flipped through. He saw every moment he’d ever had with Spock, from their first meeting to now, all at once and yet one after the other, times and looks and touches – Spock replayed every touch they’d ever shared, from a nudge of the shoulder to firm hands stroking up his arms, to trailing kisses down Jim’s stomach, over his hip-bones and down. Jim inhaled the starlight between their different worlds as they grew up together yet apart, their soul-bond sealed in the heat of the universe, but as untouchable as light itself.

Spock moved his touch away, and Jim fell back into himself as gentle as a feather.

He stared in wonder at his soul-mate. ‘Is it always like that?’ he breathed.

‘It can be better,’ Spock whispered back. ‘As we both learn.’

Their fingers ran back and forth over and over, in Vulcan kisses that seemed more appropriate than human ones right now. Jim couldn’t think, and he never wanted to ever again.

‘When you stopped writing,’ Spock said suddenly, ‘I thought you were dead.’

‘I nearly was,’ Jim said. ‘It was… not a good time.’

‘May I ask about it?’

‘Not right now.’

Spock leaned closer, and kissed Jim on the forehead. ‘When you are ready, I shall listen.’ He kissed again, down Jim’s cheek, making him sigh. ‘Ashayam.’

‘…what does that mean?’

‘I believe I shall let you figure that one out for yourself,’ Spock said, kissing Jim’s neck, now. ‘My soul-mate, my t’hy’la, I would never have anticipated meeting you.’

‘Yeah,’ Jim breathed, letting his head fall back. ‘The universe has a sick sense of humour… but I like it.’

*

Jim fought the urge to fidget. ‘I can’t believe we’ve got to explain this to your parents.’

‘They will be happy for us.’

‘Even your dad?’

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘Any Vulcan meeting their true t’hy’la is cause for joy,’ he said seriously. Then almost smiled. ‘Though I fear my mother may tell me _I told you so_.’

Jim smirked, just as the doors opened and let him and Spock into the gallery, where Sarek and Amanda were waiting. He could see Amanda holding a colourful bag – a gift, presumably – and Sarek looked as blank as ever. It was incredibly funny how Spock was a mixture of them both. Jim and Spock were soul-mates in two forms, in body (their Echoes were hidden beneath their long sleeves, today) and in mind. A human way, and a Vulcan way.

Jim tried not to grin as they walked over.

He really had ended up with the best of both worlds.


End file.
